


Origins are hard to Forget

by Silvyia



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: A shit ton of other creepypastas also appear, but those are the most important ones so I'll just settle on typing up those ones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvyia/pseuds/Silvyia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody knows about Eyeless Jack by now. He is rather famous, after all. But does anybody know how he came to be? How he became Eyeless Jack? No? Well, I do. And I'm here to share the story with you. I'll show you his past-- and then his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyeless Jack

((Author's Note: We all know about Eyeless Jack by now, seeing as he is one of the more popular Creepypasta's out there, eh? Well, I've never known anything about his past, or about how he came to be. I made my own past for him. This is complete fan work, it's not canon(if there even is a canon history for him). Enjoy!))

Jackson Rose.

 

He had always been a fairly popular guy, wooing the ladies and befriending the jocks at school. Nobody could really blame him, though. It were as if he was born with the perfect genes. Light wavy chestnut brown hair sat atop his head, his eyes a bright baby blue, accompanied by a beaming smile, with dimples, of course. He was a lean guy, not too skinny, not too broad, tall enough to make the kids jealous. As I said- perfect genes, right?

Though it wasn't only his physical attributes that made him so popular in high school. He was smart, too- got almost straight A's every semester, never turned anything in late-- classic teacher pet. And the smooth talking. God, the smooth talking. He could get anything he wanted his looks and his voice. He was a kind kid, he helped people with their homework when they needed it, he shared his lunch, he played sports with the other kids, everything everyone could ever dream of, all in one teenage body.

Unfortunately, his looks didn't help him as much as it hurt him. There was jealousy everywhere, but that is to be expected from young kids. They all thought about getting back to him, per say, for how he was born. How perfect he was. They wanted to ruin his perfect streak in life. Nobody ever actually did it, though, they were only ever dreams born of envy and greed.

A few, though, actually had the galls to go through with it. One group of bullies from his school, particularly nasty kids, they were.

Jackson was walking home from school one day, his bike had broken down the other day and it was still in the shop. He was fine with it, though, the sky was beautiful today. What little clouds were in the sky were a bright, whisky white that swirled in marvelous shapes and patterns. It was a warm day, almost too warm for the dark blue hoody and black jeans he was wearing. He smiled as he walked, occasionally looking forward to make sure he didn't run into anyone. He was too slow, though, to notice the kids hiding behind the corner, ready to take him away in a moments' notice. As soon as he had rounded the corner, a hand was placed over his mouth, effectively hiding the gasp of surprise he let out. Another pair of hands pulled him back when he began struggling. He dropped his phone in the process, and one of the kids kicked it away. They pulled him back into an alleyway, and his eyes were covered as they dragged him elsewhere.

When they uncovered his eyes, he blinked for a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. He was in a warehouse. The unnamed teenagers pushed him forward, and he stumbled. He wasn't quick enough, however, and landed on his hands, just barely managing to catch himself before he broke his nose on the pavement. A shoe connected to his side, and he coughed in pain as he was kicked onto his back.

Jackson's eyes widened when he finally saw his attackers. One of the kids, seeming to be the leader of the pack, sat, straddling Jack to get closer to him. The other two kids came to his side and held down his arms before Jack could strike at the boy.

"Well, well, well," he began, reaching into his back pocket and bringing something out. He fiddled with it as he talked. "Here we have Mr. Perfect, eh?" The two kids to his sides snickered at the name, and Jack winced as he realized what the boy atop his was twirling between his fingers. A surgical scalpel. Where had he even gotten that?

"I was going to bring something bigger, maybe one of those butcher knives, but I couldn't sneak that outta the house," he mumbled. "Good thing my pop's a doctor, though, huh?" He said in a false cheery voice, and Jack questioned the sanity of the boy. The room was quiet for a moment, save for Jack's uneven breathing as he waited for the boys to make a move. Then, the leader of the trio began talking again.

"Say, Jackie," he inwardly groaned at the nickname, "What's your favorite holiday?" At this, Jack froze. What?

"Y'know what mine is?" He asked absentmindedly, flicking the scalpel back and forth. He leaned forward slightly, putting pressure on Jack's stomach. He tried to calm his breathing. "Halloween," the boy answered his own question. "And you know what my favorite part of it is?" He asked in a quiet voice, leaning down lower, placing the scalpel on Jack's stomach. Jack sucked in it stomach, trying to get away from the sharp blade.

The teenager pushed the blade down, breaking the skin and drawing blood, as he answered his own question once more.

"Carving the pumpkin."

Jack whimpered. The kid grinned, cackling madly in the dim lighting.

"Hey, boys," the boy began, looking toward his two henchmen. "What's the first step of 'at, eh?" The two kids looked between each other warily. Jack could see that they were beginning to think this was a mistake.

"Carving out the guts, obviously!" He answered, angry that nobody had answered him. So, without looking back down at the squirming boy beneath him, he brought down the scalpel as hard as he could, and Jack's eyes widened as the white hot pain shot through his body.

He screamed.

He screamed when the boy cut his stomach open, digging around with his hands. He screamed when the kid tore something out.

"The fuck is this?" He asked, looking at the bloodied organ. Jack could see what it was, as the information from his health class came to him. His kidney. The kid had ripped out his left kidney. The boy shrugged, throwing it to the side, narrowly missing his two helpers, who's eyes were wide in shock. They had definitely gone too far, and they knew that.

"Then," the leader began again, done with part one. "We carve the face," he whispered in a low voice, looking at Jack as he spoke, a wild light appearing behind his eyes.

Jack screamed in pain when the boy began cutting out his right eye. He screamed when the two helpers ran, scared out of their teenage minds, cursing on the way out. His voice had gone hoarse by the time the boy above him cut out the second eye, his left eye. He lay there now, mouth open in a silent scream, body too tired and numb to move, to try to get free.

The boy seemed to be done with him anyway, as he realized his 'friends' had run. He cursed. "Fuckers. God damn it, how the hell am I supposed to clean this up myself?" He sniffed, and looked at Jack's still form. He was breathing still, but slowly. The kid smiled in satisfaction. He got up, then, and threw the scalpel down, done with it. It landed on his stomach, bloodied and chipped.

"Y'know what they do in hospitals, when they need to disinfect somethin'?" Jack could barely hear him, his voice fading in and out. Even in his half conscious state, he knew what was to come next.

"They burn 'em."

The boy brought out a lighter, lighting it with a flick of his thumb.

"Usually they do it in a pot of boiled water, but I don't got one of those, so we'll have to do with this." And with that, he dropped the lighter to the ground. With no gasoline to ignite it, the fire spread slowly over Jack's body, burning him in the slowest, most agonizing way imaginable.

The boy left, smiling at his masterpiece. Now he's gotta hunt down those two idiots and make sure they don't tell anyone about what they did.

After the boy closed the doors to the warehouse, ensuring nobody would find Jack's body for a long time, Jack cried. His tears were soaked in red from the corners of his eyes- or where his eyes should have been- and he was sure they simply disappeared due to the fire, but he cried. He cried silent tears as the black enveloped him, and he lay still, the fire dissipating on its' own.

All was silent.

Jack was dead. He had died a slow, painful death, alone. He died alone and scared. He died, asking what he had done to deserve this.

All was silent.

 

  
Then his hand twitched.

  
((Author's note: remember, this is just fan work! Not canon! Thanks for reading!))


	2. BEN Drowned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Once again: this is fan work, not canon. BEN's origins. It gets a little long, and the ending gets pretty vague and undetailed, but I got my theory on how he came to be across, so here you go!))

The world was a creative, innovative place to live. Everybody knew this. How far technology had advanced from just twenty or so years back was amazing, not to mention the past century's worth of improvement. Some used it for the good of the world, building sturdier, safer homes, creating new and improved medicine to save lives, and some used it for bad, creating harsher weapons, sharper blades, with plans of doing harm to the world and everyone in it. And then... then there were some like Ben.

"Benjamin! Get off your damn video games and clean this house! We have guests coming over tomorrow, it better be spotless by the time I'm back!"

Rolling his eyes to himself, he uncurled his long legs from the edge of his bed where he had sat playing his games on his computer screen, as he heard the door downstairs slam shut. The light fixtures above him swang with the harsh movement.

People like Ben wanted to disappear from the world. People like Ben wanted to simply be whisked away to their favorite movies, favorites video games, anywhere that wasn't like the life they were forced to live now. People like Ben wanted to leave.

Sometimes that isn't always as cracked up as people make it out to be.

Benjamin stood, stretching his arms far above his head, pressing the correct buttons on his controller in order to pause his game. Saving, then exiting the screen, he shut off his computer's screen as he turned. He stared out at the mess of his room, clothing and food items scattered all over the place, his soda cans strewn about from place to place. It looked as though a hurricane had passed through his room. Exactly how he wanted it to be. 

But his aunt had other plans, apparently. 

"Clean it yourself," he grumbled to himself under his breath, almost afraid of saying it too loud in case she could somehow hear it from far away. His aunt somehow knew every time he was insulting her. It was terrifying, really.

Despite his anger towards being forced to stop his games, he trodded down the steps of his aunt's home, where he was currently living as a teenage boy, and began tidying the house up little by little. He didn't know much about what kind of guests she would have over tomorrow, but he didn't really care. All he wanted was to get back to his games. 

But as he passed by the hallway mirror hanging on the wall, he couldn't help but stop to look. He grunted at his messy blond hair. It had gotten too long for his liking, nearly reaching his shoulder blades at this point. As he fiddled with it, staring into his forest green eyes, he sighed out when he realized he was getting nowhere with it. Giving up, he shook his head like a wet dog in order to put his hair back the way it was beforehand, then continued on with his chores.

It was nearly a half hour later when he found it, while cleaning up the garage of the old home. His aunt never used it anymore, and everything in it was almost a decade old at least. That must have been why the item looked so worn down. A small, square disk with scratches and markings all over the outer plastic shelling. Turning it over in his hands, he realized what it was. A small game cartridge. There were no markings or tape on the cartridge that would speak of what game it was, but Benjamin turned it over and over in his hands anyway, almost as if turning it over several times would somehow make the name appear. It didn't, as expected. Finally, he grinned. He had no idea his aunt had video games here!

Immediately, he dropped his task of cleaning and dismissed himself from his chores, running back up the stairs and into his room. Shutting the door behind himself, he plopped himself down onto the edge of his bed. Turning his monitor back on, he stared back down at the cartridge as his computer loaded up.

The game loaded up nicely, albeit a bit slow for his liking. 

However, when it was fully loaded and on the beginning screen, he noticed the 'continue' option was available. Confused, he looked at the saves currently there. All the slots were empty but one; a character named 'JON'. Jon? Who was that? He didn't know anyone by that name. He shrugged his shoulders, simply grabbing a role of tape and a red pen out to mark the outside of the cartridge that the game was titled Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. He had never particularly been a fan of the Zelda games, but he was too excited at the prospect of playing one of these old video games a lot of people said were popular nowadays. 

So, clicking on the 'new game' option, he began his own game. Pausing at the screen, he typed in all caps, 'BEN', grinning as it was similar to the way this Jon fellow had titled his game. Three letters and all. 

It was very soon that Ben began noticing the game glitches. Sometimes the game characters referred to him as JON instead of BEN, sometimes he had noticed a few other out of place things. He shrugged them all off, as he figured a game this old would have some serious bugs from time to time.

It was hours later, when he was in the final boss fight, that he really got into the game. He leaned forward on his elbows, his face inches from the screen. He squinted, as being so close to the screen hurt his eyes, but he was too busy trying to get the right combos to really care about that. He was too busy trying to get the right combos to notice the lights go off in his room. 

As a dull statue of the character, Link, followed him around, and even as his character spontaneously combusted from time to time, he continued on, determined to win the game no matter how frustrated he got at times.

And then he did it. Ben's eyes widened as he stared at the 'You Win' words on the screen. He had done it. Finally! Finally, after hours of gameplay, he had finally beat the boss battle. 

He leaned back in his seat as he exhaled slowly and heavily, simply watching tiredly as the statue stood in front of Link. The screen's sides became black, like it was during all of the vidoe game cut scenes, and Ben sat upright once more, staring at his screen as that statue in front of him finally began doing something rather than following him around creepily, as it had done throughout the entire video game since he had started the game. It began speaking, and although the mouth didn't move, and its hands and body never moved even slightly as the characters always did when talking in a cut scene, he watched as words began coming across the screen.

"You did it, BEN!" The screen read, and although he was confused about the fact that the name was titled '???', he ignored that in order to continue with the statue's small congratulatory speech.

"You beat the game! You beat me!" Benjamin stared on, silently contemplating how he had 'beat' the statue. 

"You know what that means, right...?"

Ben snorted. "That I get to go have a social life?" He asked sarcastically, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

"No..."

Ben's smile froze. 

"It means....."

Ben's smile slipped from his face altogether as he stared at the statue's figure, eyes moving to move from staring at the character to almost staring Benjamin right in the eyes.

"You take my place."

And with that, a wooden arm shot out from Benjamin's computer screen, pulling his forward faster than he could think, into his computer. Everything went dark, and as Benjamin's eyes began closing, suddenly a lot heavier than they were before, he could hear a young boy's voice, a voice he had never heard before, speak in a silent whisper, with relief flooding his voice;

"It means I'm finally free....."


End file.
